Dope

by Sax Rohmer

  CHAPTER XXII. THE STRANGLE-HOLD

  Less than a month later Rita was in a state of desperation again.Kazmah's prices had soared above anything that he had hitherto extorted.Her bank account, as usual, was greatly overdrawn, and creditors of allkinds were beginning to press for payment. Then, crowning catastrophe,Monte Irvin, for the first time during their married life, began to takean interest in Rita's reckless expenditure. By a combination of adversecircumstances, she, the wife of one of the wealthiest aldermen of theCity of London, awakened to the fact that literally she had no money.

  She pawned as much of her jewellery as she could safely dispose of,and temporarily silenced the more threatening tradespeople; but Kazmahdeclined to give credit, and cheques had never been acceptable at theestablishment in old Bond Street.

  Rita feverishly renewed her old quest, seeking in all directionsfor some less extortionate purveyor. But none was to be found. Theselfishness and secretiveness of the drug slave made it difficult forher to learn on what terms others obtained Kazmah's precious goods; butalthough his prices undoubtedly varied, she was convinced that no one ofall his clients was so cruelly victimized as she.

  Mollie Gretna endeavored to obtain an extra supply to help Rita, butKazmah evidently saw through the device, and the endeavor proved afailure.

  She demanded to see Kazmah, but Rashid, the Egyptian, blandly assuredher that "the Sheikh-el-Kazmah" was away. She cast discretion to thewinds and wrote to him, protesting that it was utterly impossible forher to raise so much ready money as he demanded, and begging him togrant her a small supply or to accept the letter as a promissory note tobe redeemed in three months. No answer was received, but when Rita againcalled at old Bond Street, Rashid proposed one of the few compromiseswhich the frenzied woman found herself unwilling to accept.

  "The Sheikh-el-Kazmah say, my lady, your friend Mr. Gray never come tohim. If you bring him it will be all right."

  Rita found herself stricken dumb by this cool proposal. The degradationwhich awaits the drug slave had never been more succinctly expoundedto her. She was to employ Gray's foolish devotion for the commercialadvantage of Kazmah. Of course Gray might any day become one of thethree wealthiest peers in the realm. She divined the meaning of Kazmah'shitherto incomprehensible harshness (or believed that she did); she sawwhat was expected of her. "My God!" she whispered. "I have not come tothat yet."

  Rashid she knew to be incorruptible or powerless, and she turned away,trembling, and left the place, whose faint perfume of frankincense hadlatterly become hateful to her.

  She was at this time bordering upon a state of collapse. Insomnia, whichlatterly had defied dangerously increased doses of veronal, was tellingupon nerve and brain. Now, her head aching so that she often wonderedhow long she could retain sanity, she found herself deprived not only ofcocaine, but also of malourea. Margaret Halley was her last hope, and toMargaret she hastened on the day before the tragedy which was destinedto bring to light the sinister operations of the Kazmah group.

  Although, perhaps mercifully, she was unaware of the fact,representatives of Spinker's Agency had been following her during thewhole of the preceding fortnight. That Rita was in desperate trouble ofsome kind her husband had not failed to perceive, and her reticence hadquite naturally led him to a certain conclusion. He had sought to winher confidence by every conceivable means and had failed. At last hadcome doubt--and the hateful interview with Spinker.

  As Rita turned in at the doorway below Margaret's flat, then, Brisleywas lighting a cigarette in the shelter of a porch nearly opposite, andGunn was not far away.

  Margaret immediately perceived that her friend's condition was alarming.But she realized that whatever the cause to which it might be due, itgave her the opportunity for which she had been waiting. She wrote aprescription containing one grain of cocaine, but declined firmly toissue others unless Rita authorized her, in writing, to undertake a cureof the drug habit.

  Rita's disjointed statements pointed to a conspiracy of some kind on thepart of those who had been supplying her with drugs, but Margaret knewfrom experience that to exhibit curiosity in regard to the matter wouldbe merely to provoke evasions.

  A hopeless day and a pain-racked, sleepless night found Kazmah's unhappyvictim in the mood for any measure, however desperate, which shouldpromise even temporary relief. Monte Irvin went out very early, and atabout eleven o'clock Rita rang up Kazmah's, but only to be informed byRashid, who replied, that Kazmah was still away. "This evening he tellme that he see your friend if he come, my lady." As if the Fatessought to test her endurance to the utmost, Quentin Gray called shortlyafterwards and invited her to dine with him and go to a theatre thatevening.

  For five age-long seconds Rita hesitated. If no plan offered itselfby nightfall she knew that her last scruple would be conquered. "Afterall," whispered a voice within her brain, "Quentin is a man. Even ifI took him to Kazmah's and he was in some way induced to try opium, oreven cocaine, he would probably never become addicted to drug-taking.But I should have done my part--"

  "Very well, Quentin," she heard herself saying aloud. "Will you call forme?"

  But when he had gone Rita sat for more than half an hour, quite still,her hands clenched and her face a tragic mask. (Gunn, of Spinker'sAgency, reported telephonically to Monte Irvin in the City that the Hon.Quentin Gray had called and had remained about twenty-five minutes; thathe had proceeded to the Prince's Restaurant, and from there to Mudie's,where he had booked a box at the Gaiety Theatre.)

  Towards the fall of dusk the more dreadful symptoms which attend upona sudden cessation of the use of cocaine by a victim of cocainophagiabegan to assert themselves again. Rita searched wildly in the lining ofher jewel-case to discover if even a milligram of the drug had by chancefallen there from the little gold box. But the quest was in vain.

  As a final resort she determined to go to Margaret Halley again.

  She hurried to Dover Street, and her last hope was shattered. Margaretwas out, and Janet had no idea when she was likely to return. Rita hadmuch ado to prevent herself from bursting into tears. She scribbled afew lines, without quite knowing what she was writing, sealed the paperin an envelope, and left it on Margaret's table.

  Of returning to Prince's Gate and dressing for the evening she had onlya hazy impression. The hammer-beats in her head were depriving her ofreasoning power, and she felt cold, numbed, although a big fire blazedin her room. Then as she sat before her mirror, drearily wondering ifher face really looked as drawn and haggard as the image in the glass,or if definite delusions were beginning, Nina came in and spoke to her.Some moments elapsed before Rita could grasp the meaning of the girl'swords.

  "Sir Lucien Pyne has rung up, Madam, and wishes to speak to you."

  Sir Lucien! Sir Lucien had come back? Rita experienced a swift return offeverish energy. Half dressed as she was, and without pausing to take awrap, she ran out to the telephone.

  Never had a man's voice sounded so sweet as that of Sir Lucien when hespoke across the wires. He was at Albemarle Street, and Rita, wastingno time in explanations, begged him to await her there. In another tenminutes she had completed her toilette and had sent Nina to 'phone for acab. (One of the minor details of his wife's behavior which latterly hadaroused Irvin's distrust was her frequent employment of public vehiclesin preference to either of the cars.)

  Quentin Gray she had quite forgotten, until, as she was about to leave:

  "Is there any message for Mr. Gray, Madam?" inquired Nina naively.

  "Oh!" cried Rita. "Of course! Quick! Give me some paper and a pencil."

  She wrote a hasty note, merely asking Gray to proceed to the restaurant,where she promised to join him, left it in charge of the maid, andhurried off to Albemarle Street.

  Mareno, the silent, yellow-faced servant who had driven the car on thenight of Rita's first visit to Limehouse, admitted her. He showed herimmediately into the lofty study, where Sir Lucien awaited.

  "Oh, Lucy--Lucy!" she cried, almost before the
door had closed behindMareno. "I am desperate--desperate!"

  Sir Lucien placed a chair for her. His face looked very drawn and grim.But Rita was in too highly strung a condition to observe this fact, orindeed to observe anything.

  "Tell me," he said gently.

  And in a torrent of disconnected, barely coherent language, the torturedwoman told him of Kazmah's attempt to force her to lure Quentin Grayinto the drug coterie. Sir Lucien stood behind her chair, and the icyreserve which habitually rendered his face an impenetrable mask desertedhim as the story of Rita's treatment at the hands of the Egyptian ofBond Street was unfolded in all its sordid hideousness. Rita's soft,musical voice, for which of old she had been famous, shook and wavered;her pose, her twitching gestures, all told of a nervous agony borderingon prostration or worse. Finally:

  "He dare not refuse you!" she cried. "Ring him up and insist upon himseeing me tonight!"

  "I will see him, Rita."

  She turned to him, wild-eyed.

  "You shall not! You shall not!" she said. "I am going to speak to thatman face to face, and if he is human he must listen to me. Oh! I haverealized the hold he has upon me, Lucy! I know what it means, thisdisappearance of all the others who used to sell what Kazmah sells. IfI am to suffer, he shall not escape! I swear it. Either he listens to metonight or I go straight to the police!"

  "Be calm, little girl," whispered Sir Lucien, and he laid his hand uponher shoulder.

  But she leapt up, her pupils suddenly dilating and her delicate nostrilstwitching in a manner which unmistakably pointed to the impossibility ofthwarting her if sanity were to be retained.

  "Ring him up, Lucy," she repeated in a low voice. "He is there. Now thatI have someone behind me I see my way at last!"

  "There may, nevertheless, be a better way," said Sir Lucien; but headded quickly: "Very well, dear, I will do as you wish. I have a littlecocaine, which I will give you."

  He went out to the telephone, carefully closing the study door.

  That he had counted upon the influence of the drug to reduce Rita to amore reasonable frame of mind was undoubtedly the fact, for presently asthey proceeded on foot towards old Bond Street he reverted to somethinglike his old ironical manner. But Rita's determination was curiouslyfixed. Unmoved by every kind of appeal, she proceeded to the appointmentwhich Sir Lucien had made--ignorant of that which Fate held in store forher--and Sir Lucien, also humanly blind, walked on to meet his death.

  PART THIRD--THE MAN FROM WHITEHALL